


The Wild Blue Haired Boy and His Veela Girl

by ladyknightley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 14:44:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6333175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyknightley/pseuds/ladyknightley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of THAT newspaper article, Bill Weasley has a few things to say to Teddy Lupin. Not all of them are expected, however...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wild Blue Haired Boy and His Veela Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I wrote a couple of years ago following the Pottermore Quidditch World Cup article that I'm cross-posting here :)

Bill Weasley stops by the Potters’ tent when Harry and Ginny are at dinner and suggests going to the bar for a drink. James and Albus jump up and down with excitement (and so does Lily, though that’s mostly because she doesn’t want to miss out on any fun her brothers might have), but Bill just smiles and shakes his head. “You guys are a bit young still, but I reckon our Ted’s old enough to come too, don’t you?”

“Erm,” says Teddy, because right now really doesn’t seem the time to be disagreeing with anything Bill Weasley might say, but he _did_ promise Harry and Ginny he’d look after the kids (“And no lurking in dark corners, yeah?” Ginny had said, barely able to contain her laughter. _Hilarious_ she was, his godmother).

“Teddy’s babysitting us,” James says. “But we don’t really need a babysitter, we’re too old for that now,” he adds hopefully.

Bill laughs. “I don’t think so, mate,” he says. “But it’s not a problem—I’ve bought a replacement along.” He reaches behind him and pushes his daughter—face as thunderous as he’s ever seen it—forward.

“Da-ad,” she says. “I can walk, I’m not a child!”

“Victoire!” bellows Lily, delighted. “YAY! Come in my tent and I will show you all my things and can I paint your nails and will you do my hair and did you know that when I was getting water with Daddy earlier today there was a man who…” Her voice trails off as she drags Victoire into the tent, and Teddy has no chance now of getting what Victoire was frantically trying to mouth at him. He’d managed ‘Dad’ and ‘really mad’ and thinks that maybe that was enough to cover it, but the look Bill’s giving him now is…actually quite pleasant?

“How about that drink then, Ted?” he asks.

“I should just get my…uh…wallet,” Teddy replies, gesturing back towards the tent Lily has Victoire cornered in.

“No need,” Bill says, still with that terrifyingly pleasant smile, waving his own. “Come on.”

“Bye Teddy!” Albus says.

“You two be good now,” Teddy says, trying to sound stern.

“We have you as an example!” says James, wearing a butter-wouldn’t-melt expression. Teddy risks a glance at Bill, but he just continues to smile and nod.

“Well…bye then,” he says, and follows Bill in the direction of the bar on the edge of the VIP area. Bill doesn’t speak much on the way there—at least, not to Teddy. They can’t seem to go two seconds without bumping into someone that he knows: “Seamus! Good to see you, mate!”, “Hello there Kath, so lovely to see you and your wife again, are the kids having a good time?”, “Goldstein! Where’ve you been hiding all week?!”

Teddy just nods and smiles at all of these people, trying not to blush at the smirks he gets when Bill introduces him to a few of them as, “Harry’s godson, Teddy Lupin, you remember?”

They reach the bar, and Bill talks fluent Portuguese to the barman, who laughs loudly whilst looking directly at Teddy, who does his best to seem unfazed. Then Bill hands him a pint of muggle beer, and directs him to a table. “You don’t mind the muggle stuff, do you?” he asks.

“No, love it!” Teddy says, trying not to gag as he takes a sip. The only thing he ever drinks is Butterbeer, he can’t stand the taste of anything else.

“Good, good,” Bill says amicably. “Butterbeer’s a bit nancy for me.”

“…oh,” says Teddy. He can’t help but notice Bill’s fang earring is back, and compare it to his own piercings. He has more, including a stretcher in his left lobe, but it’s Bill’s that looks more hardcore right now. Though that could be the dragonhide jacket he’s wearing, even in the sweltering  Brazilian summer heat. Or the fact that he’s the father of the girl he’s spent the week making out with. “So…” he adds, desperately casting around for conversation topics. “Where’d you learn Portuguese?”

“I had a load of friends from all over the world when I worked in Egypt,” Bill explains. “And a Brazilian pen-pal whilst I was at Hogwarts. That didn’t end well, though.”

“Oh?” asks Teddy, pretending to take another sip of beer.

“Yeah, I think I offended him somehow and he sent me a cursed hat, if I recall,” Bill says.

Teddy wonders how to respond. He doesn’t want to seem at all sympathetic towards the Brazilian pen-pal (Merlin knows what Bill would do to him given the slightest excuse) but he also doesn’t want to imply that Bill is or was in any way incapable of dealing with any curses sent his way. He settles for another, “Oh,” and wonders at what stage he’ll be able to utter words of more than one syllable in his presence.

“It’s all in the past,” Bill shrugs, and Teddy nods. “Speaking of the past,” he continues. “It’s mine and Fleur’s wedding anniversary coming up.”

“Oh?” asks Teddy, starting to feel a bit desperate. He wonders if there’s one of those muggle video cameras lying around, taping his reaction to Bill’s…well, normality. After _that_ article, he was fully prepared to be murdered in his sleep by Victoire’s notoriously overprotective father.

“Yes,” Bill says, taking a slow drink of his beer. “I was looking at the photos. We managed to get a few before—well, you know how our wedding ended. You’ve been told all these tales often enough. They were dark times.”

“They were,” Teddy agrees, matching his sage tone.

“Of course, what I found of particular interest to you was a few pictures of your parents,” Bill says, eyeing him carefully. Despite everything, Teddy’s heart rate speeds up, and his hair flashes bubblegum pink for a moment. “I thought you might be interested in seeing them, so if you remind me, I’ll fish them out when we all get home.”

“Yes please,” he says eagerly.

“You can keep them, if you’d like,” adds Bill. “Your grandmother might have a copy of a few of them, but I’m sure she’d like to see them too.”

“She definitely would,” Teddy nods.

“Funny though,” Bill says, addressing the air above Teddy’s head. “Andromeda didn’t really approve of your father, at first. She didn’t want your mother to be with him.”

Teddy doesn’t know what to say to this: he’s heard this story a thousand times if he’s heard it once, and he doesn’t know why Bill’s rehashing it today. Maybe he’s supposed to draw parallels between his grandmother and father, and Bill and himself? It wouldn’t be the most subtle comparison ever… Or perhaps Bill is just going senile. The heat might’ve turned him funny—there’s certainly _something_ going on with him tonight. Regardless, he settles for his new favourite word. “Oh.”

“She came round in the end of course,” Bill says. “Around the time you were born. I remember that well. Harry was at mine and Fleur’s, along with Ron and Hermione, and a few others. Luna Scamander, back when she was Luna Lovegood, and Mr Ollivander, you know, the wandmaker?” Teddy nods, and Bill continues on with his story.

He tries shuffling on his seat, moving an inch closer to the doorway. Bill leans in an inch, now going on about the ‘wild and stormy night it had been’, and Teddy wonders if they can make their way over to the campsite like this, one inch at a time, until he’s back with Victoire and she can save him from her father.

“Your father was an excellent man, a truly good friend, though,” Bill says, once they have been through The Story Of How Remus Came To Spread The News Of Teddy’s Birth. He tries not to look too hungry for details. “When this happened,” Bill says, gesturing to his face, which is looking particularly gruesome tonight, “it was your father who helped me most—no one else could, of course. We didn’t know what was going to happen; I was the first known case of a person attacked by a non-transformed werewolf. Fleur said she would stick by me, and for that I will never _not_ love her. She was my rock, and still is. But it was your father who was able to give the most practical support.”

“I can imagine,” Teddy murmurs gruffly.

“You can’t,” Bill spits. “But for that—for the fact that none of your generation can—I am forever grateful.” There is nearly five minutes’ pause, then Bill speaks again. “Of course, I knew your mother for longer than I knew your father. She was good friends with Charlie at school, and they were only two years younger than me. She’d spend summers at our house, sometimes.”

For nearly a full hour, Bill talks of his memories with Teddy’s parents. A lot he’s heard before, but there are enough new details to keep him listening. It’s excruciating: he wants nothing more than for Bill to get to the point of their little meeting—to be told to Stay Away From My Daughter by the standard Overprotective Father—but here is someone who is prepared to just sit him down and talk about the mundane details of his parents’ lives. He’s heard Harry and Gran’s tales a thousand times, and he _loves_ them, but this is new information about his parents and he will drink it up like nectar.

And then, after about an hour of talking, Bill yawns, stretches, and asks if he wants to head back to the tent. “Um, sure,” he replies, not even pretending to finish his three-quarters full beer. They walk back to Harry and Ginny’s tent together—once again bumping into seemingly every person Bill knows—and when they get there, they find the two of them, their three children and Victoire playing three-a-side Gobstones with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

James spots them first. “Hello Teddy, hello Uncle Bill!” he bellows.

“Hello, James,” Uncle Bill says cheerily.

“Oh thank Merlin,” Victoire says, scrambling to her feet and looking like she might pass out with relief. The adults exchange the briefest of pleasantries, before Harry firmly announces it’s time for the boys to clear up their dinner things and leads them off into one tent.

“Time to get you ready for bed, Lily-Loo,” Ginny says, taking her daughter and vanishing with equal rapidity.

 _Real subtle, guys_ , he wants to shout after them, but doesn’t quite dare. Victoire is frantically shooting questioning looks his way from behind her father’s back, but even if he could answer them without Bill noticing, he wouldn’t have a clue what to say. Really, he has no idea what’s going on. Did Bill really want to take him to have a drink and discuss his dead parents? After _that_ newspaper article was printed?

“You two should say goodnight,” Bill says, still wearing that terrifyingly genial smile.

“Goodnight, Teddy,” Victoire says, leaning in towards him.

He panics and holds out his hand, shaking hers firmly. “Goodnight, Victoire,” he says. He cannot, _cannot_ kiss her in front of her father.

She rises to the occasion, successfully keeping a cheerful but neutral face whilst shaking his hand like his hands weren’t someplace far less innocent twelve hours ago. “I’ll see you tomorrow for the match,” she says brightly.

“The newspaper article isn’t true!” he blurts in response.

He doesn’t mean to say it, he means to agree with her, but he cannot stand this unspoken tension between him and Bill and he needs to do _something_ and Bill is just standing there and Victoire’s frantically shaking her head, mouthing ‘no’ over and over and he’s waiting for the explosion and—Bill just chuckles.

“Trust me, I’ve had a fair few run ins with Rita Skeeter over the years,” he says. “All of us have, it’s part of being a Weasley. Or a Potter, for that matter. Or a Granger…well, you get the idea. I know what she’s like.” Teddy unwinds a fraction of an inch. “Were you…how did she put it…‘snogging’?” Bill adds.

Thankful that Bill’s used that description (and not some of the others’) and deciding that now is _not_ the time for being untruthful, Teddy nods. “But we weren’t…it wasn’t like the newspapers said at all!” he says. “Nothing like…that.”

Victoire nods vigorously, clearly attempting to look cute and innocent (which is _very_ distracting).

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Bill laughs. “I know what she’s like. And besides, I remember what it’s like to be young and carefree…”

Victoire shoots a look of complete and utter confusion and Teddy, who shrugs. At this stage, all he can think is that George has Polyjuiced himself as Bill to see how much he can scare him for a joke, because there is no way that _Bill Weasley_ is basically giving him _carte blanche_ to have his wicked way with his daughter. “Well, I’m off to bed,” Victoire trills, a note of panic in her voice. “Coming, Daddy?” She has clearly decided that escape is the only option left, and he cannot blame her. _Please, please take him away_ , he begs internally.

“Sure thing, love,” Bill says. He leans in and gives Teddy the standard, manly one-armed slap-on-the-back hug. And in that moment, Teddy dares to think that he’s gotten away with it. Until: “Break her heart, and I will break _you_ ,” is hissed in his ear, in the most terrifying tone he’s ever heard. Bill squeezes his shoulder hard, then leaves. But at this point, it’s almost a relief to get it over with.

(A beetle, perched on the leaf of a nearby shrub, is already planning the next day’s headlines.)      


End file.
